


The Many Faces Of Pride

by ImogenSmiley



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 52 Week Oneshot Challenge, Coming Out, Ego, Egocentric, Gay Pride, M/M, Oneshot, Pride, Self-Acceptance, Self-Growth, growing together, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: Pride was not the word he was looking for. There was so much more.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	The Many Faces Of Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Another Wednesday has rolled around and I am excited to share this piece about Iwaizumi and Oikawa!

Pride was the bane of Iwaizumi's existence. Primarily, the immense volume of hubris which exuded from each pore of his best friend's body. Oikawa found himself in the smooth surface of the volleyball, and a once reserved and lonely child found a drive he had never known as he leapt toward the summit, the ball barely passing the net. It wasn't like Iwaizumi hadn't had the same sensation shoot through him. Both boys were high on the power that came from controlling the ball. The rush was addictive but the fall from the summit without making a mark was never graceful.

As they grew from scraped knees, gap-teeth and prodding ants' nests with twigs in the schoolyard, their lust for power and control grew fiercer. When they were little, just throwing the ball in the playground, or gym class, like the sportsmen they saw on TV, it didn't matter that they were alone. But as Middle School dawned upon them, and the friends stepped into the gymnasium of Kitigawa Daiichi Junior School they saw what the game was really about.

By their third year of middle school they had grown, they were taller, leaner, faster, and could communicate, cross-court with just glances. They had a partnership unrivalled by most of their team, but that was reason enough to push them. Their coach was constantly forcing them apart. They could never guarantee they would be on the same team. They could never be sure that they would share the court.

It infuriated Oikawa to his core. He would go wherever Iwa-chan went.

Perhaps their fury was enough. Or, at least for Iwaizumi. Before he graduated, the dark haired boy seemed to have an epiphany above any instructions from coach. He'd pulled his best friend aside in the club room, and stood among bags of deflated balls, frayed nets and dented neon cones, he'd declared that there was more. There was more to the game than victory, there was the team. There were more than two people on a team - there were six. And it wasn't one solo player, or a pair that could pull off basically anything, that carried a team. What could two people do against six. The best team of six would win. There was more to the game than just him, than just them.

To say that Oikawa had taken kindly to Iwaizumi's words would have been farce. But fifteen-year-old boys never seemed to understand enough about the world around them. It tended to be too little too late, charging in full throttle and getting hurt. But that's what made sports so powerful. That's what made the thrill of a game so intense. Because when you're fifteen, ninety minutes feels like forever.

The same could be said about emotions. Stolen glances and fleeting feelings being cast into oblivion. Blush-stained cheeks seared behind the cover of textbooks, unintentionally backhanded compliments and failed attempts of flirting. All part of the young-adult experience.

Oikawa noticed the change in his thinking as subtle, how he was fiercer beside Iwa-chan toward the end of middle school, how he would gravitate to his side, no matter how frustrated it made him. They walked in step without effort and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel desperate to make him laugh, even if just for a moment. Growing up meant embracing every side of the person you were becoming. And while Iwa-chan had slipped into step with Oikawa, that didn’t mean that he had been happy to allow him to fade away. As great as the two were as a pair, it was learning to let others in and not fight them for a chance of glory, which was frustrating. Playing favourites in a team sport would be detrimental, and as frustrating as that was to accept, Oikawa would have to roll with the punches if he wanted to share the court with his best friend. He wanted to set for him, make sure he could soar above the summit with their combined force. He was a storm of a man, contained in a quiet but passionate shell. But that didn’t change how Oikawa felt: Iwa-chan deserved respect, and attention, praise, and love.

Love? Was that a thing he could feel for another boy? Was a thing he should feel for another boy? Did it matter? Wasn’t love all that mattered? Didn’t it make the world go round? 

Oikawa would never admit it but High School took it out of him. He went from being the top of the pyramid, bolstering Iwa-chan to exceptional heights, to not even making the First Team. For almost an entire year, he didn't play in competition. Nor did Iwa-chan. Instead, they were stuck in the Second Team, filled with prospective replacements for the current third year students. But even then, it didn't stop the fire within them raging on. Whenever they landed spikes, whenever they performed great sets or accurate blocks, they couldn't help but be excited. There was nothing better than that. But they learned to spot it; that spectacular quality that came from trusting the people that shared the space with them. It was aweing to watch power plays in action. They really weren't the be all and end all, despite what Oikawa thought. But, they could be.

They could be. Together, with more work.

For a year, he had held his tongue, hiding behind a mask of flirtatious, wry, quips at the girls in his class, leering and jeering, but never going further than winking across the room. He had gained the reputation of a womanizer, even though he’d never been kissed. He was a heartbreaker, constantly lamenting of the trials of love, and making all the girls in the vicinity swoon. Iwa-chan would roll his eyes, and laugh at his pain, as if he wasn’t the target of his affections all along.

Iwa-chan only allowed the fire that burned within him to be unleashed in two places: on the court, or with Oikawa. Their teamwork interested the coach, gained them a reputation. According to the members of the second team, Oikawa was the one that made Iwaizumi great. But he knew that that was wrong – Iwa-chan was already great, all he needed was the ball. It wouldn’t matter who gave it to him.

It was the end of their first year of high school when they met a boy who stunned them to their core. In a practice match they were spectating from the benches, set up with another local school, The Iron Wall of Date Tech, that they saw two boys, third years, kiss on the court. They'd just broken through what looked to be an impenetrable fortress of man's will and the celebrations had been erratic and electric. The coach had chastised those third years for bringing their personal lives onto the court but Oikawa had been stunned.

Iwa-chan had commented that that was the first time Oikawa had truly been lost for words. Instead his light brown eyes glistened with a sense of wisdom, pride and knowledge. It was as if he'd unlocked the secrets to the universe. He beamed and turned to his best friend, talking in hushed tones.

"Did you know? Iwa-chan did you know that was a thing?"

"What?" his best friend had asked, raising a thin brow and pressing his lips into a fine line, "That tactic of spiking? It's relentless don't you think? Aiming for the angry bruises on the blocker's arms with enough force to either send the ball ricocheting back, or cause the opposition real pain."

Oikawa hummed, "Seems a bit forceful if you ask me. But I guess that's one way to knock down a wall."

Iwaizumi nodded, his eyes were also on the third year boys that shared a kiss. He smiled at them, a small one that not many would pick up on, lips barely curling upward. But Oikawa noticed.

After the match he couldn't help it, he walked with his chest puffed out a little more. A mutual connection between himself and his upperclassmen was reassuring to the core, even though he wasn't sure of his own feelings yet. Was this love or really strong friendship?

Did he want to be by his side every day as a husband or a best friend? Did he want to hold his hand platonically or was it something else? Was being desperate to share every milestone, celebrate the miscellaneous an indication he wanted to be more than friends? Was he gay or did he want to become Super-Best Friends? He reckoned it was the former, he wasn't five anymore. Although, Super-Best Friends would be something if nothing else. All he hoped, was that Iwa-chan would humour him, whether he reciprocated or not.

Iwa-chan didn’t seem to respond to it. He didn’t seem to change at all. And so another year of frustrated crushing begun.

It was after their first win of a tournament on the First Team that Iwaizumi turned to Oikawa. They were on their way to the locker room to get changed back into their tracksuits when he pulled him aside. And down a corridor, beneath a flickering light, beside an out-of-order men’s toilet, Iwa-chan hugged his best friend.

“Oikawa you were amazing. I love you.”

“Thank you so much Iwa-chan, we really killed that last play, huh? Wait, what did you say?”

“I love you, Oikawa.”

“I…I love you too Iwa-chan.”

That was the extent of their confession, but it was enough. From that moment onward, the pair seemed to be closer, constantly reaching and leaning toward one another. Their High School careers were beginning and they had just come onto the volleyball scene as a new force to be reckoned with. With an unpredictable but succinct attack strategy, Oikawa could toss to Iwaizumi, knowing he would follow the ball to the best of his ability. No matter what. They were on the on and up.

Kisses were had in private, they weren’t ready to tell. Their compliments were as snarky and backhanded as before, and Oikawa was still the notorious womanizer of Aoba Josai. It didn’t matter, because the only thing that was genuine was the charisma. It wasn’t his fault he was friendly, and boisterous, and excitable. They’d spend their time after schools on innocuous dates, at WacDonalds, the arcade and the movies. They’d watch as many volleyball games that they could get to, and hold hands in the stalls. It didn’t matter as long as they were side by side.

They attended their first pride in the city that summer, wearing white t-shirts and jeans, slipping into the crowd and trying to remain inconspicuous. Being around so many people, clad in colours and glitter was energising. There was so much to be done, confetti to dance in, facepaint to put on, and flags to fashion into capes. They could buy crowns, leis, tutus, anything they could imagine was clad in rainbows. And, soft drinks were cheap at every store on the street! Vendors were sampling and the streets were alive with colour usually seldom seen until night begun.

They joined hands on the way home, and didn’t let go until they got to their houses, divided by crossroads. They kissed briefly under the smile of the moon, and parted ways, both blushing furiously.

They had so much to be proud of – but they weren’t at the point where they could declare their never-ending love for one another in PUBLIC public yet.

That would come, though. It happened to occur on the day they lost against Karasuno, the day of their final match. But, way before they went onto the court. They were on the bus, pinkies entwined, ready to head to the stadium, when Oikawa was called to make a speech after the coaches had spoken up. Iwaizumi asked to go up too, and declared that if they were to lose, that would be it, but that was okay. That would have to be okay. And it wasn’t going to be the end because a team was more than a handful of people on a court. No, they were a unit of people who loved each other, cared about each other, and would do anything for each other. It didn’t matter the result. What mattered was they enjoyed themselves. Oikawa had launched himself off his seat and embraced him, holding his hand and dragging him back to sit down. They kissed quickly, redness staining their cheeks when they realised what they had done in their haste.

At the corner of their eyes, they saw Hanamaki pass Matsukawa a bank-note. A lost bet.

As much as his speech was rather hypocritical after the loss, it didn’t mean that Iwaizumi wasn’t proud of his team’s efforts. It just meant he was disappointed in himself.

Oikawa, however, wasn’t. And in the hallway, in the same stadium, in the same spot, beneath the flickering light, and the out-of-order bathroom, the pair embraced.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Oikawa, but I should have done better.”

“No, you were perfect. I just wasn’t fast enough.”

“Please, this isn’t your fault. You were amazing, and reliable. There’s always next-” Iwaizumi cut himself off, cursing under his breath. He looked up and met his boyfriend’s gaze, and they embraced again, kissing the tears away and breaking apart to cry on their own. They needed time to process the fact that they wouldn’t get to try again with the same team, with the same people supporting them. They had to acknowledge their feelings, accept their regrets and take a breath. Because once they went into the locker room, they’d have to pretend that they weren’t existing in perpetual loathing.

“Oikawa-”

“Iwa-chan?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
